


the beauty of your repair

by Lauren (notalwaysweak)



Category: The Big Bang Theory (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-07 05:58:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know, this is technically our third date,” she says. “So, you know. We could.”</p><p>He gives her a steady look. “Are you inviting yourself in for coffee?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. demons and desires and dark sides

**Author's Note:**

> The Big Bang Theory characters do not belong to me and I am not making any financial profit off their use here. Stuart's adopted cat and apartment layout are via Merewyn, for whom I cat-sat in 2002.
> 
> Betaed by Lorata, with many thanks, especially for catching some wonky POV moments and times where I got over-enthusiastic with metaphors.
> 
> I cannot for the life of me remember who I wrote this for! It was based off someone's offhand remark either on the kink meme or the anon meme. If you think it was for you, it probably was.
> 
> * * *

“Please. Please. Please.”

“Amy,” Penny says, “you’re starting to sound like Sheldon.”

Amy blinks at her. “I’m sorry?”

Penny triple-knocks on the kitchen island she’s leaning against, and Amy nods in understanding.

“You’ll have Sheldon with you, why do you need me?”

“Sheldon’s the one who escalated our relationship in the middle of my date with Stuart. If anything, seeing us together might exacerbate the situation without your presence to ameliorate it.”

“Ri-ight,” Penny says. “And you can’t just stay home because...”

“It’s against the relationship agreement,” Sheldon butts in. “Are you going to drive us, or should I go and find my bus pants?”

So Penny caves and goes with them – chauffeurs them, in fact – and hangs out near the counter while Sheldon picks out his comics with the same single-minded dedication that he applies to solving string theory equations, and Amy reads one of the _Sandman_ graphic novels with her brow furrowed, as though she can’t quite grasp the appeal of fiction.

Penny still feels a little guilty around Stuart because of the whole Leonard’s name thing (not to mention guilt by association because of _stupid_ Sheldon barging into Stuart and Amy’s date; being one of Sheldon’s friends is akin to being co-owner of a large, clueless puppy that doesn’t know where not to pee), but when she hesitantly mentions it he just laughs.

“Penny, believe me, on a scale of crappy to horrendous, that didn’t even make the top ten,” he says, arranging Warlords and Pokémon and Magic cards into their respective boxes, fingers flying like a deft blackjack dealer’s.

“Oh, that’s good,” Penny says thoughtlessly. Stuart winces a little. She doesn’t think that she was meant to see it. “I mean, except for the part where I’m sorry, that sucks. That you had worse dates, I mean. Oh God.” She plants her face in her hands, leaning her elbows on the edge of the counter, and hears Stuart laugh. She remembers that from their dates: he has a nice laugh when he’s not completely stressing out.

“It’s okay, Penny. Howard has worse stories than I do. A lot worse.”

“Really.”

“Really. But don’t mention it to him. He might decide to tell you.”

Penny thinks back to a certain afternoon cooped up in a certain weepy engineer’s bedroom and shudders. “No thanks.”

Stuart clears his throat and looks like he’s about to say something, but then turns back to the cards. Foil packaging flashes in his hands; Penny suddenly thinks of condom wrappers and starts giggling.

“What?”

She flaps her hand at him. “Nothing, it’s nothing.”

“Oh.” He puts the last of the cards away and then asks (not as casually as she thinks he would like to believe), “So, how’s Leonard doing?”

Penny blinks at him for a second; Leonard comes in enough for Stuart to know how he’s doing. “Leonard? Well, um. I think he’s over Priya. He’s definitely moved out of the lying face down on the couch stage.”

“Uh-huh. What about you?”

“Oh, Stuart, I’ll _never_ get over Priya. That bitch was the love of my life.”

Stuart gapes at her and then cracks up. Across the store, Sheldon and Amy both turn to look at them. Penny side-eyes them and knows she’ll get questioned in the car on the way home. Possibly on the way out of the store, if Amy’s social skills are on the blink again.

The Odd Couple come over to the counter, Sheldon casting Stuart a suspicious look as he sets down his haul. Penny turns away and starts fiddling with the Angry Birds plushies hanging on the wall. Sheldon heads for the door as soon as he’s paid, Amy on his heels, but Penny hangs back for a second.

“Stuart?” she says impulsively.

“Yeah?”

“You still have my number, right?”

His throat works, his Adam’s apple bobbing, but no words come out; he just nods instead.

“Call me, okay?”

“Penny,” Sheldon says from the doorway, “Souplantation doesn’t stay open _all_ night.”

“Cool your jets,” Penny tells him. She winks at Stuart and takes her time getting out of there.

* * *

He doesn’t call her. She is not quite surprised, and a little more disappointed than she’d thought she would be. Maybe he’s more comfortable with dates when they’re not offered so obviously, like Charlie Brown eyeing the football and wondering if Lucy’s going to hold it down this time, knowing that she won’t.

* * *

“I don’t see why we have to do this _every_ Wednesday. Can’t you just have Stuart keep your comics under the counter? The way that you browse takes up so much more time.”

“Amy, Amy, Amy. Part of the fun of New Comic Book Day is seeing the new issue _in situ_ with the preceding issues, which experience the Comics Center never fails to provide. Stuart’s a man who can appreciate a neatly shelved comic book.”

“Racked,” says Penny.

“I _beg_ your pardon?”

“They’re not shelves, they’re racks.”

“If that was an attempt at juvenile humor, please don’t repeat it.” Sheldon looks back at Amy, leaving Penny with her mouth hanging open. “As I was saying, a good deal of the enjoyment lies in the journey.”

“Not _this_ journey,” Penny mutters to the steering wheel.

* * *

The store’s practically empty when they get there and Penny realizes it’s later than usual, almost six. Stuart makes the exact same oh-hell-not-more-customers face that Bernadette does this close to closing time. When he sees who his last-minute shopper is it turns into a grimace; Penny waves at him as Sheldon strides into the store and watches Stuart’s face light up.

“How come you didn’t call me?” she asks, leaning on the counter.

“I’m sorry, Penny, really, but I’ve been extra busy this week. Free Comics Day is coming up and I spent all weekend rearranging the back room to fit in the stock.”

“Right. So, what’re you doing after work tonight?”

Stuart goes a little pink, but smiles. “Oh, you know, the usual. Another wild night in.”

“We,” Penny says firmly, “are going out.” She raises her voice. “ _Shamy_! Hurry it up, Stuart’s closing.”

“What–”

“Come on, you two, right now. And you – yeah, you in the Batman t-shirt, pick a Robin and get out.”

Stuart’s shaking his head at her, but Batman-shirt comes up and pays and so does Sheldon.

“Bestie, I thought I told you I don’t like you calling us ‘Shamy’.”

“Sorry. It’s shorter than ‘Doctor and Doctor Wackadoodle’.”

* * *

She doesn’t know where to take him that she can afford that isn’t work. In the end she picks El Portal because it’s just down the street; by the time she’s dropped Sheldon and Amy back at Sheldon’s, declined to walk them up the stairs, and gotten back to the Comic Center, she’s not in the mood to do laps of Pasadena looking for somewhere else.

It feels weird to not be the poor one out of the two of them.

Stuart dithers over the menu and eventually says, “I’ll just have a salad.”

“Shut up, no, you won’t. You need to put some meat on those bones.” She pokes him in the ribs and Stuart pulls away from her touch.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

“I’m sorry. I promise not to tease you anymore.” With a mischievous grin, she adds, “Unless you _want_ teasing,” and Stuart gives her the first proper smile she’s seen from him in some time.

She goes easy on the wine since she’s driving, but Stuart downs a whole glass in one go when he stumbles across an unexpectedly hot chili, swallowing, gasping, and fanning his mouth.

“Lucky we weren’t doing shots. You’d be on the floor.”

He licks his lips to catch a stray drop of wine, and she suddenly remembers making out with him in his car. It had been okay until she fucked it up. Better than okay. He’d kissed her slowly, carefully, the same way that he’d slid his hand into hers and held it as they walked around the art gallery on their first date. She’d been the one to push it further, to let it get dizzying enough to say the wrong name.

“Penny.” His fingers are light on the back of her hand and she realizes that she’s gripping her fork with white knuckles. “I’m sure your taquito isn’t _that_ bad.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

Stuart gives her a quizzical look. “For what?”

She just looks back at him, sees the understanding in his eyes, and feels his fingers squeeze her hand again before pulling away.

She never really noticed his eyes before. She’d kind of assumed he had blue eyes, actually, like Sheldon and Howard, but they’re not. They’re a melting dark brown, like L– like Raj’s, actually.

“Stuart.” She reaches across the table. His fingers meet hers in the middle.

“It’s okay,” Stuart says.

She gets the feeling that he says it like that, with that exact note of resignation, a lot.

* * *

The mood lightens once they start talking about horrible customers, trading stories of retail hell, and afterwards they walk back to the Comic Center hand in hand.

“You know what I like about you, Stuart?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not too smart for me.”

He side-eyes her. “Um, Penny, that might have sounded better in your head.”

“Yeah, it kinda did. I meant – it’s not that you’re not smart, obviously you’re smart enough to run a business–”

“Or stupid enough.”

She ignores him with flying colors. “–but you don’t make _me_ feel stupid. You don’t make me feel like I don’t know what you’re talking about, except sometimes with comics stuff. I understand your job, you’re not afraid to argue with Sheldon, and you – I feel like I–”

“Penny.” He stops her from digging herself in any deeper by the simple expedient of kissing her. His lips are soft and sure against hers, his arms go around her waist and pull her close, and she instinctively reaches up to wind her arms around his neck. He’s thinner than she remembers, and more tentative on the kissing front, but last time there was a lot more wine involved.

This time it’s just them, and it’s... well. He seems to have forgiven her for the Leonard incident. His hands are light on her lower back but his fingertips are tracing interesting patterns that make her feel like the fine pink cotton of her top isn’t really there at all. She moves one hand down from the nape of his neck to hook a finger through one of his belt loops, holding him against her. The hand that stays put toys with his curly hair. He makes a soft appreciative noise; she remembers that from making out in his car.

Zack kissed like he was eating ice cream, and Leonard kissed like he was eating watermelon, which was almost the same but wetter. This feels more like Stuart saved the best chocolate out of the box for last and intends to savor it.

“You know, this is technically our third date,” she says. “So, you know. We could.”

He gives her a steady look. “Are you inviting yourself in for coffee?”

“If you want.”

His next question catches her off guard. “Do you feel sorry for me?”

“What? No! That’s not what this is about. You’re cute, and your art is really cool, and you’re funny, although maybe a little over the top in the self-deprecation depar–”

He stops her talking again, his mouth insistent against hers.

“Why don’t you come upstairs and we can see where things go from there?” He detaches himself from her – which is when she realizes that one of his hands has been on her ass for who knows how long – and unlocks a drab door set into the wall next to the glass entrance to the store.

She doesn’t know whether to feel offended or not that he’s not utterly all over her, but then again, wasn’t that (one of) the problems with Leonard?

* * *

The stairs go straight up into a small living area. She’s vaguely aware of a streetlight shining in through the glass at one end, but her attention goes straight to the pictures on the walls. They’re not all pencil sketches; there’s a section of watercolors, and a section that looks like photos until she gets up close and realizes they’re just incredibly detailed drawings, and beside them there’s a silk painting that has his signature on it as well. She feels like she’s in an art gallery.

“Oh, wow.”

Stuart gives her a tiny smile, shrugging out of his flannel shirt. “Thanks.”

Penny spontaneously hugs him. “How come you don’t do more with these? You’re really talented.”

She can tell from the way he goes rigid in her arms that it’s not a question he relishes answering. “I don’t have a lot of time. The store... I just don’t.”

She lets him go. “But you have these already... you could find places for them.”

Stuart sits down on the couch, which she recognizes as the same Ikea standard-issue as her own, only in a kind of burnt orange color. “I get anxious thinking about people seeing my work.” He toes his shoes off and sheds his socks; they’re mismatched, which is kind of cute.

Penny flops down beside him, tosses her handbag aside, and bends down to pull off her sandals; her feet are complaining about walking up and down Green Street. “Oh, honey, I’m sure a lot of artists do. I get stage fright.”

Stuart reaches down, fingers circling her ankles, and tugs her feet into his lap. His fingers are deft, soothing the soreness away; it only tickles a little. “I threw up twice the night of the exhibition I took you to.”

“Was I that bad a date?”

“Penny, _please_.” He’s looking down instead of at her, like her sparkly pink nail polish holds all the secrets of the universe. “You’re right down the bottom of the bad date list, okay? You’re like the anti-bad date, all things considered.”

“Then why–”

“I’ll tell you, but you’re gonna decide to walk back out that door.” He keeps working on her feet, occasionally sliding his fingertips up her calves, and she feels wrong that it’s turning her on when he’s clearly trying to tell her something that hurts.

“You know what? Maybe I will walk away. But Stuart, I promise to at least listen until the end. Okay?”

He glances sidelong at her. “Deal.”

Penny waits. Patience isn’t her strong suit, but she waits.

“I feel like nothing I ever do is good enough. I feel like I’m barely keeping it together when it comes to running the store, even though it mostly stays in the black. I’m sick to fucking death of playing medication roulette.” His thumb digs particularly hard into the arch of her foot. “I assume that everyone who sleeps with me does it out of pity. My last long-term relationship was three months long and she barely spoke to me for the last month, plus that was last December. My art is useless, my brain is broken, and I don’t even give enough of a damn any more to cry about it because that’s just as pointless as everything else.”

Penny wants to say something, to crack a joke, try to make him smile, but she can’t. Her tongue is locked in place; her vocal cords are frozen.

Stuart releases her feet and finally looks her in the eye. “So. You can go now.”

What hurts the most is that he doesn’t sound sad, just resigned.

She does move after a minute, but it’s not to leave. Instead, she scoots along the couch, puts her arms around him, and kisses the top of his head. “Nobody should have to feel like that,” she says fiercely. “Least of all you, when I can _see_ all the talent and the good stuff you have inside you, right here on these walls.”

“My brain says you’re just saying that.”

“Well, your brain is full of shit.”

“I think we just established that.” He gives her a wry smile.

“No, I mean it’s _wrong_. Stuart, you’re not well, and this–” She makes an inarticulate sound. “Remember the first time I came into the store?”

“Vividly.”

“I really liked how you hit on me. I thought your drawing was beautiful, and I liked that you asked for my number instead of just hiding the whole thing under the counter. I liked that Stuart, and I know he’s still in there, no matter what your brain is telling you otherwise.”

“You really did like that drawing,” he says, and it’s not a question.

“I still have it,” Penny says. “I still have it at home, in–”

She doesn’t get as far as telling him where, because sassy artist Stuart is back in control and this time he’s got his tongue in her mouth, bypassing the soft and slow part entirely. A surprised gasp escapes her throat and she feels him smile.

* * *

The thought about being the last chocolate in the box keeps coming back to her, even when she’s on her back on the couch and he’s pressed right up against her. She’s playing with his hair again with one hand, mostly just running her fingers through the curls, partly holding him as close as possible. Her other hand rests on his lower back, where his t-shirt has hiked up to reveal bare skin. He’s not holding back when it comes to kissing her, but his hand on her breast is butterfly-light. It still makes her feel like she’s not wearing much at all, especially when he rolls his thumb over her nipple. It’s really close quarters on the couch but that, to her, does not at all detract from what he’s doing.

“I thought you’d been single since December. You don’t seem out of practice.”

“I said that was my last long-term thing. You’d be surprised how many women at conventions like to get a little graphic with an artist.”

Now that’s the kind of humor she can appreciate; it doesn’t go over her head like the stuff the guys usually say, and she loves the way he smiles down at her when she laughs.

They both fall silent for a little while, then; she’s minding her manners by not talking with something in her mouth, and he’s working out what she likes best in a kiss, considering how diligently he’s testing her reactions.

He backs up off of her for a moment, but it’s just to pop open the top button on her shirt. He has to tuck his head right down to kiss the exposed skin. The second button follows shortly thereafter, and then the third, and then he shows off his multitasking skills by slipping his hand inside her shirt even as he presses his lips to hers again.

“Mmmm... oh, _Stuart_...”

“I’ve been waiting two and a half years for you to say that,” he says, and Penny opens her eyes with the intention of glaring at him, but he’s smiling at her.

“In that case, let’s see what else you can make me say.” She slides her hand down his back into his rear jeans pocket and squeezes his ass; unsurprisingly, he’s the one to get vocal.

* * *

“We should probably move this to the bedroom,” she says a couple of minutes later. She’s got his t-shirt pulled halfway up his back and short of maybe relocating so that she’s on his lap there’s not a lot further that they can go on a couch like this. (She knows. She’s tried.)

Stuart kisses her again and then rolls smoothly to his feet, holding his hands out to her. Penny takes them and stands. He draws her along the short hallway, passing one closed door, and into his bedroom without missing a step; it almost feels like dancing.

A blue fluffy blur streaks past them and down the hallway.

“What was that?” Penny asks.

“Bluey. He’s kind of adopted me. I think he’s half Persian, half tribble. He figured out how to open the kitchen window a couple of months ago, and, well.” Stuart shrugs.

“That’s sweet.”

“Sure, I love it when I get taken advantage of.”

Penny gives him a gentle backward nudge. “Then you’re going to _love_ what we’re gonna do in here.”

Stuart laughs. “Oh, my purity!”

She’s always liked someone she can joke with.

She continues the theme when they get into the bedroom, pushing him down onto the bed and getting her hands up under his t-shirt in short order. Her own shirt is only closed by virtue of two buttons; he makes quick work of them and spreads her shirt wide. His hands cover her breasts and she presses down against him and this time they say each other’s names in unison.

She leans down to kiss him and he stops her with one hand flat on her sternum. “Penny. One last time. Are you sure about this? Because I kind of come with a lot of baggage.”

Penny straightens up again, lets her shirt slide off her shoulders, and tosses it aside. “You never know... maybe I can help you carry it.”

Stuart reaches up and takes her hands again. “Then why don’t you come up here and take advantage of me?” And he licks his lips at her, slowly, meaningfully.

When it comes to sex, Penny is never slow on the uptake.

She balances with her knees either side of his head, one hand on the headboard, the other holding her skirt out of the way. Stuart brings his hands up between her thighs, fingers pushing the thin thread of her g-string aside.

“You _are_ good at this.”

“I slept with Wonder Woman. More than one. They’re pretty demanding.”

She’s still laughing when his tongue touches her, and it turns into a moan.

He’s _very_ good at it.

He’s delicate and rough by turns, using the flat of his tongue and then the tip, figuring out what works best for her the same way that he did with kissing her mouth. Her arm is shaking before long; she tucks the hem of her skirt into the waistband and puts her other hand on the headboard as well. The movement shifts her closer down against Stuart’s mouth and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue right inside her.

She’s no longer sure which is more intimate: this, or the way that he poured his heart – no, his mind – out to her earlier.

He resumes stroking her with the flat of his tongue and slides two fingers inside her, curling them back toward himself. (She’s willing to bet that he didn’t have to Google how to do it, either.) The long slow caresses with his tongue are what make her melt; it’s like he’s trying to lick into the very center of her. She tries to tense her thighs but they’re too shivery and only her grip on the headboard keeps her from falling down as well as apart.

He helps her lie down, her legs still shaking, and gives her a little “well?” look, although the smile turning up the corners of his mouth tells her he already knows.

“I’m glad you stayed in practice,” she tells him when she can trust her voice to work again.

“Oh, for you, it’s my pleasure.”

“Stuart, I can promise you, that was at least two hundred percent _my_ pleasure.” She tugs at the hem of his t-shirt. “Off.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He sheds the t-shirt and settles with one arm across her stomach. The light scattering of his chest hair tickles against her skin. “Next time you come into the store I’ll have trouble focusing, remembering this.” His fingers find the front closure of her bra and flick it deftly open. “It’s a lot more fun in reality than just thinking about it.”

“So you’ve thought about it?” Penny asks, amused.

“Mmmm. Who wouldn’t?” Then he’s pushing her bra out of the way and his mouth is on her breast and clearly his tongue isn’t worn out yet.

“God, Stuart!”

What it comes down to, she thinks somewhere in the back of her happily hazy mind, it’s the difference between theory and practice. Leonard _tries_ ; Stuart _does_.

She stops him, pulls him on top of her by the belt, and all but yanks him down into a deep kiss. He wriggles a little, flinching.

“You okay?”

“Jeans too tight in an area that might be relevant to your interests.”

Penny laughs. “Clothing can be so inconvenient.” But before she lets him remedy it, she presses her mouth to the side of his neck and pointedly leaves a mark. “Something to show off to the boys on Wednesday.”

“Oh, and if it fades before then?”

“Then I’ll have to freshen it up,  won’t I?”

“Promises, promises,” Stuart says lightly, sliding the worn leather of his belt free of the buckle, then sitting back on his heels and pulling at the waistband of her skirt. “Off.”

Penny wiggles out of her skirt, her underwear going with it, and sits up long enough to ditch her bra. Stuart, meanwhile, stands up to drag his jeans off. Underneath the faded denim, he’s wearing burgundy satin boxers; it’s a good color on him.

They stay on when he lies back down beside her; apparently there’s some residual shyness still there, but that’s all right.

His hands roam over her body like he’s committing her curves to memory. In all probability he is. She doesn’t have to do much in the way of telling him what feels good. She reaches down and palms him through the sleek fabric and his eyes flutter closed. She wiggles her fingers in under his waistband, sliding through soft curls before wrapping around the length of him and he lets out a broken whimper.

“I will never not appreciate how good that feels when someone else does it,” he says, and Penny decides he’s getting too chatty and relocates herself to where she can shut him up with her mouth. And not by kissing him. Well. _Mostly_ not by kissing him.

“I bet you never do this for yourself,” she says, lifting her head after a minute, and the laugh she gets in response dissolves into a moan that’s definitely of the happy variety. She drags her nails down his thighs and he arches into her mouth.

“Fuck, Penny!”

She chooses to interpret that as _do it again_ , and does, and one of his hands finds her head, pulling her ponytail free, spilling her hair over his thighs. His fingers comb through it, stroking her scalp, and she hums softly around him.

This isn’t how she intends things to end, though, so after a couple more minutes she lifts her head again and yanks his boxers further down. “Off.”

Stuart moves to obey and then digs through the nightstand. Penny takes the condom packet off him, rips it open, and then rolls the thin latex onto him with her mouth, just because she can.

“If your thighs can take it, I want you on top.”

Penny grins at him. “Oh, I can manage that.”

She takes her time easing down onto him; he’s got his hands on her ass within seconds, but she remembers mentioning teasing earlier, and the look of aroused frustration and then the way he gasps when she relents and takes him all the way inside is totally worth it. She leans down to kiss him and he buries his hands in her hair, cradling the back of her head, his tongue slipping slow against hers.

Slow is nice, but she picks up the pace before long, because feeling him move up against her and seeing the way that his face goes soft with pleasure, the worry lines smoothing out, and the way his teeth sink into his lower lip, is even nicer. Meeting her gaze, he slides one hand between her thighs, his thumb finding her clit, and this is no gentle caress of tongue and lips; this time she’s coming within seconds and digging her nails into his chest. When she looks at him he’s smiling slyly.

“You–”

“Mmmm,” is all he says, and then he’s rolling her to her back and driving down into her. She gives him a few good scratch marks down his back to go with the bite on his neck, whispers “ _Stuart_ ,” into his ear, and feels him shiver all over, coming apart with her name caught in his throat.

* * *

“Good third date?” she asks him some time later. His arm is around her shoulders; he’s playing with her hair again as her head rests on his chest.

“Worth the two and a half year wait.” She can hear the smile in his voice and pokes him in the ribs. This time he doesn’t flinch away.

“Do you have to be up early?”

“Mornings and I have an agreement: I won’t bother them if they leave me alone.”

“My kind of man,” Penny murmurs.

“I could make an exception if you want me to make you breakfast.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Good. All I have is coffee and Cheerios.”

“Sounds like a well-rounded meal to me,” she says, enjoying the way his chest moves when he laughs.

She’s almost asleep when he says her name, so quietly that at first she thinks she’s imagining it.

“Yeah, Stuart?”

He kisses the top of her head. “Just making sure I wasn’t dreaming.”

She presses her lips to the hollow of his throat, holding it long enough to feel his pulse, his breathing. “Not dreaming,” she assures him. “And I won’t disappear at dawn.”

His arm tightens around her. “Good. Good.” 


	2. bring you to your birthright

_next Wednesday_

The now-faded mark is still on Stuart’s neck the next Wednesday night.

Penny tries not to hover near the counter and does her best to engage with the others when they talk to her, although to be honest she’s far more interested in the fact that Stuart’s sketchbook is open in front of him.

Leonard follows her line of sight and gets the wrong idea.

“I haven’t seen him draw in a long time. You must have cheered him up, taking him out for dinner last week.”

“Mmmm,” Penny says noncommittally.

She is waiting for the – ha – penny to drop.

 

_two months_

When Stuart’s hands go still on Penny’s breasts she knows what he’s thinking now.

“Hey. Art.” She deliberately grinds against him. “Draw me like one of your French girls _later_.”

He smiles up at her and treats her to a laugh that comes easier these days. “It’s not my fault that you mesmerize me.” His hands trace the lines of her breasts, her waist, her hips. “Or that you’d make a great superheroine.”

“Waitress Girl and Retail Geek save the world,” Penny says, circling her hips.

His fingers pull her down, but she can see him file the thought away.

 

_three months_

Penny plans to surprise Stuart with dinner, coming up to his apartment with food from work. She calls out his name form the stairs and hears a flurry of movement before he calls back, “Don’t come in!”

It’s too late, though; she can already see the snowdrift of scrunched and shredded and crumpled paper all over the floor.

“Stuart, _no_ ,” she says, dropping the bag on the couch, fearing the worst.

But all of his art is still up on the walls. Penny toes one of the scraps and it flutters over.

It’s her. It’s Waitress Girl. Costume and all. 

 

_five months_

“We’re going to have to think about telling the guys soon,” Penny says, watching Bluey make his way from the floor to Stuart’s lap to the middle of the piece of paper Stuart’s drawing on.

“I know.” Stuart gives up on relocating the cat and stands up, sliding his arms around Penny’s waist. “I just want to keep you to myself a little longer.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Penny protests.

But she knows that once the comic goes live online he _will_ lose her, at least a little. Waitress Girl won’t be just their private joke any more.

She’s nervous.

 

 _six months_  

It turns out that coding HTML is  _way_ easier than memorizing the Cheesecake Factory’s menu and turning it all into shorthand. While Stuart scans strip after strip, swearing at the multifunction printer that is currently mostly functioning as a paperweight, Penny pieces the website together. Home and archive, forward and back, ad space, and the optimistic donate button that goes to their shared Paypal account.

“You’re my muse,” Stuart insists whenever she protests.

She doesn’t protest very hard. He can be very persuasive.

Right now he’s frowning at the scanner, he’s smudged with graphite, and Penny thinks she’s in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was meant to be a one-shot, acquired a drabble sequel that turned into two drabbles that turned into five, and now I _think_ there's another chapter to go. The moral of this chapter is: do not let Lauren write things because she doesn't stop.


	3. the storm inside you awoken now

The night that the website goes live, Penny refuses to let Stuart near the computer once everything’s up and running. She doesn’t let him mention it anywhere online, and when he surreptitiously tries to load the site while they’re at dinner she confiscates his phone, an ageing iPhone that crashes when you breathe on it.

“Why?” he asks, although she thinks he knows.

“Because this way we get to see how many hits it gets before you spread the word and you won’t try to tell me they all came from our friends.”

“Which would be what, eight?”

“Hey, just because _you’re_ a reclusive shut-in doesn’t mean _I_ don’t have friends.” She wouldn’t have said it seven months ago, but now it’s something that makes him roll his eyes and laugh.

He surprises her by saying, “You know what? I think it’ll be okay.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?”

Stuart’s fingers intertwine with hers. She can feel his calluses from hours – days – of drawing, first with pencils and then, once she’d blown his cover, from the stylus that came with the tablet she’d forgone new shoes for two months to afford. “No, really. It’s a new webcomic in a huge sea of them, and even with advertising I’m not expecting anything too amazing.”

Penny studies his expression carefully and decides that he’s being serious, not pessimistic, and he doesn’t appear to have talked himself into thinking everything will come falling down.

“Good,” she says. “Now finish your tiramisu.”

“What’s the rush?”

“I want to go back to your place and spend a few hours being reclusive shut-ins _together_.”

* * *

She wakes up at seven to Stuart shaking her For a second she thinks the end of the world must have arrived, because neither of them are early wakers.

“Pen. Penny. Get up.”

“Seriously?”

He hauls on her arm until she rolls out of his bed and follows him, blinking sleep away, into the tiny living area. The computer is on. Of course it is. In Penny’s experience, none of the guys ever turn their computers off.

Stuart jabs at the screen with one shaking finger. “Look at the hit counter.”

God. It’s not like she doesn’t know where the hit counter is, she did the layout herself, and _holy shit that’s triple digits_.

Suddenly Penny is wide awake, and she doesn’t think she’s going to be sleeping anytime soon.

“Oh my God,” she murmurs.

“Can you bring up the pageviews report? I couldn’t remember the login.” Stuart scrubs at his eyes with the palm of his hand and lets out a short laugh. “I probably couldn’t remember it if it was my own _name_ right now.”

“It’s not,” Penny says, leaning past him to log into the site administration panel. “Okay, um... just under nine hundred pageviews, and seven-forty-two unique hits.”

By way of response Stuart grandly sweeps all the paper off the desk and lifts her onto it. Penny wriggles out of her sleep shorts and Stuart wheels his chair over so he can be comfortable while he goes down on her for what, in her dazed mind, feels like a blissful eternity.

They end up breaking the chair when she slides off the desk and into his lap, but crashing down to the floor doesn’t put either of them off. Besides, they land in a paper drift.

* * *

Later, after they’ve had breakfast and a nap and Penny’s had time to look at the admin panel some more, she finds the breadcrumb trail. A tweet from Wil Wheaton, a direct shortcut through the webcomic forest to Stuart’s little cottage – well, being Waitress Girl, diner – in the middle of nowhere.

“It’s nice to have friends in high places,” Stuart says when she tells him.

“Mmmm,” says Penny, already mentally composing an email that more or less goes, _check out our hit count, we’re fabulous, want to buy ad space?_ She doesn’t know exactly what companies to target, but the Cheesecake Factory might not be the worst place to start. Waitress Girl’s uniform is dissimilar enough to theirs that they’re unlikely to sue and, while Waitress Girl does gripe about her job, it’s good-natured.

Well, anyway, it’s less snarky and more witty than the way _Penny_ gripes about her job, so it can’t be too bad, considering.

Apart from the ad email – which she sends to half a dozen places, tailoring each the way she does her resume depending on what role she’s trying out for, not that taking _Serial Apist_ off the list leaves much else – she also whips up a thank you email to Wil. The only trouble is she doesn’t have his email address and doesn’t much want to condense it to 140 characters.

“Send it from my email,” Stuart says, reeling off the series of letters and numbers that make up his password. She hopes she’ll never have to remember it, discreetly scribbling it on a Post-It.

She sends the email to Wil, and then sees the state of Stuart’s inbox. “You have a million unread emails here. How do you not check this all the time?”

“If you want to delete stuff, feel free. Just don’t open anything that says ‘invoice’ or ‘past due’ or ‘we’re coming for your cat’.”

Penny glances over at Blue, slumbering on the couch. “With all due respect to your cat, I’m not sure anyone _would_.”

Stuart tosses an eraser at her and misses. Penny just laughs and starts sorting his email. It’s like the website thing; once she’s got the hang of it, it’s easy to remember what categories she’s putting stuff into. Like nesting HTML tags. (Like reciting daily specials.) Bills she tags without opening them. The odd bit of spam that’s snuck into his inbox gets deleted. And then there’s an interesting-looking one that she has to open, because it comes from “Capitol Comics”.

“Hey.”

Stuart doesn’t look up. Penny flicks the eraser back at him.

“Huh?”

“Who’s Jesse?”

Stuart looks like he just swallowed a fly. “Just this guy... he owns a rival comic book store... nobody, really.”

“Sure, okay. He seems _very_ impressed that your webcomic took off so well, though. And that you’re friends with Wil Wheaton.”

“Oh, really?” Stuart says, totally failing at nonchalance.

“Read it.”

He leans over to read it, setting one hand on her thigh for balance, and Penny’s struck by how easily they interact. It’s not like being with Kurt and feeling small (and _small_ ) beside him, or like being with Leonard and just plain feeling awkward.

They _fit_ , is what it is.

* * *

The comic updates Mondays and Thursdays.

By the third Monday, Penny’s floundering, trying to keep her head above water in the mysterious world of forum moderating. Stuart takes a look and names three users for her to message and ask if they want to help out, which they do. For free, which stuns her a little. The initial flood of hits instigated by Wil’s tweet has crested and then receded into a respectably sized fanbase. Local fans come into the store to meet Wil Wheaton’s friend and switch comic book store allegiances, bringing their pull lists – and money – to Stuart.

By Wednesday night that week, their whole extended social group has seen the comic, and New Comics Day includes the guys crowding around the counter to congratulate Stuart on how well it’s going. Penny hangs back with Amy and Bernadette, wanting him to have his moment.

It doesn’t last long.

“Did you do the webpage design as well? It looks really good,” Leonard says.

“No, Penny did,” Stuart says.

Leonard looks over at her. All four of the guys do, actually. “ _Penny_? I had no idea she knew anything about coding.”

Penny summons up her very best Elle Woods voice. “What? Like it’s hard?”

She can practically see the reference go flying right over everyone but Raj’s head. Stuart bites his lip, fighting laughter.

“The hardest part was the late nights the first two weeks, because we got a bunch of broken link reports and the fourth comic wouldn’t display as anything but a thumbnail. I was ready to throw the computer across the room, but Penny just sat down and eliminated all the options until she had the solution,” Stuart says.

“How very scientific,” Howard says in a voice that drips grease even though Bernadette’s standing all of three feet away from him.

“She’s a lifesaver,” Stuart says, and Penny’s heart clenches at the unspoken truth behind his words. She harbors no illusions that she’s his magical lifeline, the one true cure for depression, but she knows he’s doing better now than he was seven months ago.

“She was the inspiration for the comic, right?” Amy sighs a little wistfully. “I wish someone would do a comic about _me_.”

“Come on, Ames, every other comic out there is about scientists,” Penny protests.

Amy looks at Sheldon. Sheldon gives her a Doctor Cooper explains-it-all look and has his mouth open to quote ten years’ worth of sales statistics or something before his brain registers Penny’s comment in full. Then he just says, “She’s right.”

Penny and Stuart exchange a glance that’s pure glee. Unfortunately, Bernadette intercepts it – Bernadette, who doesn’t have to think twice about social interactions to comprehend them.

“Those late nights must have been rough,” she says. “Did you get enough sleep?”

“Usually,” Penny says, giving her a cheerfully innocent grin.

“I guess you stayed at Stuart’s. I know you hate driving late at night.”

“Only because other people are totally unaware of the road rules. “

“Are you sure it’s nothing to do with your own driving ability? Or your check engine light?” Sheldon butts in. “Or any of the other things wrong with that piece of rust you euphemistically call a car?”

“The car’s fine. It needs gas, but that’s all.”

“I’m sure you’re saving on gas if you’re not driving home every night. Stuart’s place is _much_ closer to the Cheesecake Factory.” Bernadette is hell-bent on getting Penny to slip up.

“You’d think that, but, you know, I’m an artist... someone has to make 3AM coffee runs, and I can’t leave my work,” Stuart says.

“It’s true,” Penny says to Bernadette’s bemused look. “He’s really picky about his beans.”

“Remember the time you drove all the way to Burbank at one in the morning just to get me a donut?”

Penny nods fondly at this completely fabricated memory. Bernadette grabs her elbow and drags her aside.

“That’s actually _less_ convincing,” she hisses.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“If you were just sleeping with him you’d have said something by now. If you’re really driving fifteen miles each way in the middle of the night to bring him donuts, you’re in _love_.”

“You may have a point,” Penny concedes.

Bernadette grins. It starts out triumphant, but then turns to more of a stunned gape as the underlying meaning of what she’s just said breaks through her pride. “Wait... you _are_?”

Penny can’t contain a grin of her own. She feels it spreading in a way that’s going to leave her cheeks sore. “Yep.”

Bernadette looks at her, looks at Stuart, looks back at Penny, and then engulfs her in a hug so fierce that Penny stumbles backward. She feels Stuart’s arms go around them both, catching them before Penny can hit the corner of the counter.

“Please don’t crash-tackle people in my store, Bernadette,” he says, and Bernadette disentangles herself to plant a smacking kiss on his cheek.

“What,” Leonard says.

Stuart’s arms are still around Penny, having closed tighter without Bernadette to hold up as well. Her arms go around his waist, and with her head against his shoulder she can hear his heart, beating away steadily without the hitching race of anxiety. She just smiles at her friends.

“I lied about the donut,” Stuart says, and she can hear that he’s smiling as well.

“Although he _is_ surprisingly fussy about his coffee for someone who used to drink instant even after it went cold.”

Leonard still looks baffled, until Amy nudges him over to the shōjo section (the manga having been subdivided over three of Stuart’s sleepless nights, bringing the series without tentacles out of the back room) and whispers at him. Penny feels miffed that he can’t conceive of a world where she’s dating Stuart, of a world where she hasn’t just been waiting for Priya to be out of the picture to make her move.

But Priya flew away months ago, and here Stuart is, disentangling her arms from around him so he can retrieve Captain Sweatpants’ pulls from under the counter, and here she is with him.

So maybe she isn’t working for Miramax, and maybe Stuart isn’t working for Marvel, but it’s enough.

It’s enough.


End file.
